Lady Kathryn swooped into the back parlor shortly after Vicki arrived home. "Ah, there you are," she said. "I was afraid you had left us."
"No." Vicki sat down, her fingers drumming on the arm of the chair.
"You seem worried," Lady Kathryn remarked. "Is something amiss?"
"I called on a friend of mine, Tom Duncan, for help. He'll be here sometime tomorrow."
"You mean, here, at the castle? Oh, my dear, what have you done?"
"We need help," Vicki exclaimed. "I can't find Falco on my own, and Antonio's in no condition to hunt for him. You know that."
"Are you sure you can trust this man, Tom?"
"I hope so. You've got to tell me, does Antonio take his rest here in the castle?"
Lady Kathryn floated around the room, looking much like one of the ghosts in Disneyland's Haunted Mansion as she flitted about.
After a moment, she settled on her usual perch on the stereo cabinet. "I'm afraid that is something you will have to ask Antonio."
Vicki blew out a sigh. She wasn't looking forward to telling Antonio what she had done.
Whenever she was troubled, Vicki cleaned house. That was what she did now. She mopped and dusted. She washed the windows. Since there was no washer or dryer in the castle, she filled the kitchen sink with soapy water and washed her underwear, then hung it over the kitchen chairs to dry.
She skipped lunch and indulged in a huge ice cream sundae, and then she took a nap.
It was dusk when she woke, and Antonio was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her. For once, he wasn't wearing black. Instead, he wore a pair of faded gray sweatpants and a gray short-sleeved T-shirt that looked butter soft.
"Did you run out of black clothes?" she asked, though she suspected his change of clothing had more to do with comfort than anything else.
"Even I get tired of black occasionally," he replied with a wry grin.
She was glad to see that he looked a little better tonight. The burn across his throat didn't seem quite so red. His skin didn't look quite so pale.
"You have been busy," he remarked.
"Busy?" Dread coiled in the pit of her stomach. Had Lady Kathryn told him about her phone call to Duncan?
"The castle fairly sparkles. I doubt it has ever been quite so clean."
"Oh, that." She sat up, not meeting his gaze. "How are you feeling tonight?"
"Better." He studied her face, listened to the beat of her heart. "Something troubles you."
"Does the name Falco ring a bell? He troubles me."
"You may as well tell me what is bothering you."
"Or what? You'll read my mind?"
"If I must."
"Oh, all right, I called Tom Duncan today."
Antonio's eyes narrowed ominously. "Indeed?"
"I thought we needed help, someone who can hunt Falco during the day."
"Go on."
She slid her legs over the edge of the bed and gained her feet, putting some distance between them. "I asked him to come here."
"Here?" Antonio rose and stalked toward her. "What do you mean, here?"
She looked up at him. Rarely had he looked as menacing as he did now, his throat scarred, his eyes burning with barely suppressed anger. He reminded her of a panther about to pounce. And she was his prey.
"Tell me you did not invite him to my home," he said, his voice tight.
She took a step backward. "I… I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do."
Antonio snorted. " Duncan could not find Falco in Pear Blossom Creek. What makes you think he will be able to find him here?"
"I don't know. I just know we need help, and— "
"I have fought my own battles for over six hundred years," he said quietly. "I have not always won, but— "
"Oh, please, don't give me any of that macho vampire crap. What about the other night?
Should I have just left you chained to the floor in that shed? Should I have just waited here, twiddling my thumbs, hoping you'd find a way to free yourself?"
His anger melted in the face of hers and he laughed softly. "You are right. I needed help that night and my warrior woman came to my rescue."
"I'm sorry, I just didn't know what else to do."
"When will he be here?"
"Sometime tomorrow. He asked me if you slept here." She looked up at him. "Do you?"
"I did. I will find a new place to rest tomorrow."
"Why? He promised he wouldn't hunt you."
"You will forgive me if I place no faith in the word of a vampire hunter."
"I'm sorry. I guess I've made a mess of everything."
"No. I am too weak to hunt Falco. And you are too inexperienced. Perhaps Duncan can accomplish what we cannot, though I doubt it. And now, I must go out for a while."
"No! He could be out there."
"I must feed."
"You know you don't have to go out for that, not anymore."
"I cannot keep taking from you, sweeting. It is not good for you."
"But it's good for you, isn't it?"
He nodded. "More than you know."
"Then let's not waste time arguing about it, okay?"
" Victoria, what am I to do with you?"
Taking him by the hand, she led him to the easy chair and sat down on his lap.
"Whatever you want, Antonio."
"You tempt me, woman, in more ways than you can imagine."
She smiled, pleased, as she tilted her head to the side, giving him access to her neck.
She saw the hunger rise in his eyes as he lowered his head, the glint of his fangs. Hard to believe she had once found the thought of the vampire's kiss repulsive. Women the world over would be hunting for vampires if they knew what pleasure could be found in their arms.
She closed her eyes as wave after wave of sensual pleasure moved through her. She knew, without knowing how she knew, that every time he drank from her, it bound them more closely together. Hopefully, by the time they had destroyed Dimitri Falco, Antonio would find it impossible to exist without her. She was already certain she couldn't exist without him.
She moaned a soft protest when he drew away. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course." His knuckles caressed her cheek. "How could I refuse you anything now?"
She took a deep breath. "Do you like being a vampire?"
"Yes, I do."
"All of it?"
He nodded. "All of it."
"And you don't miss the sun or food or anything else?"
"Not anymore. Although… I would like to have had a son."
"It's not too late," she said, thinking how wonderful it would be to have Antonio's son.
"It is eternally too late," he said.
"Why? Can't you have children?"
"No. Can you imagine how quickly we could flood the world with vampires if we could reproduce? I have existed over six hundred years. Think of the number of children I could have sired in that time."
She had no doubt that it would be a staggering number if she could do the math in her head. "Will you tell me something else?"
"Ask."
"What's it like, when you sleep? Do you dream?"
He smiled faintly. "I never dreamed until I met you."
"Really? What do you dream about now?"
"I am not sure you want to know."
"Oh, but I do."
"I dream of making you mine, of making love to you in every way that a man who is also a vampire can make love to a woman."
She contemplated his answer for several moments. How many ways were there for a vampire to make love? The question raised a number of interesting possibilities. She frowned. Did vampires make love differently than mortal men? It was a topic she decided not to pursue at the moment. "Can I ask you one more thing?"
"You want to know where I take my rest."
"Will you show me?"
"If you wish." There was no harm in it now. He would never sleep there again. Setting her on her feet, he took her by the hand. "Come."
He led her out of the parlor and up the stairs. Like most old castles, this one had a number of hidden doors, passageways, and bolt-holes. About halfway up the staircase, he stopped and pressed his hand against the wall. A portion of the wall slid back, revealing a yawning maw of darkness.
"Do you still want to see it?" he asked.
She nodded.
He had to admire his warrior woman's courage. He knew she wasn't as calm as she appeared. Her palms were suddenly damp; he could hear the rapid beat of her heart.
Still holding her by the hand, he led her down a narrow, winding staircase into a darkness that was blacker than black.
Vickie didn't know how he did it, but suddenly a dozen candles sprang to life and she saw that she was in a small oval room. The floor and the walls were made of gray stone. There was nothing in the room save for the candles and an oversized coffin with the lid raised.
Antonio released her hand and stepped away, his face carefully impassive as he waited for her reaction.
Vicki stared at the sleek ebony wood, the pristine white silk that lined the inside. Try as she might, she couldn't hide the revulsion in her voice. She was sure it showed on her face, too, but she couldn't help it. "Do you like this part of it, too?"
"It is just a place to rest," he replied quietly. "Nothing more."
"Couldn't you rest just as well in a bed?"
He shrugged. "I have, in the past."
"Then why…?" She gestured at the casket, unable to believe anyone would willingly choose to sleep in such a thing.
"It serves to remind me of what I am."
She turned to face him. "Why on earth would you need reminding?"
"It is a quirk of mine, nothing more." He held out his hand. "Come, let us go."
